Eleven O'Clock
by VintageVelvet
Summary: This is a piece written for a contest I'm entered in. Feel free to read and comment. It involves Draco AFTER the Dumbledore incident.


**This is a small one-shot I wrote for, 'The Bleeding Heart - Writing Competition'. The requirements were; **

• You may pick one Harry or Draco.  
• They must be mourning a loved one.  
• They must remain alone throughout the entire ficclet.  
• It may be in either first person or just general point of view.  
• You must post a disclaimer, this will always be necessary.  
• Stay in Canon.

**This may seem a bit muddled and the tenses get confusing. I decided to put it up here. So I hope you like it and R/R. **

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, etc. Joanne Kathleen Rowling does. I'm not that cool. Also the plot line is used a bit as well from what I know. So yeah. I suck at life._

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**Eleven O'Clock**

June fifth.

It's ironic that on my eighteenth year of life I prepare myself for death. It's faintly disgusting that it will be my cousin; a half breed, who will take my life away in a single swish of her wand.

I'm tired of barely living day by day, constantly looking over my shoulder for one of the many people after me. I hate running when I'd rather stand and fight, but I've become a coward.

She'd be disgusted with me and at what I've become. I was once a prestigious young man from a widely known –and feared- line of witches and wizards. My presence alone used to demand respect and I was known to all as the Slytherin Prince. Now, a year later I'm a mess; hair long and full of dirt, clothes torn and aged, digging through garbage cans for food…

I've become no better then those pathetic muggles whom my father used to torture mercilessly for the Dark Lord. I'm trash and wanted dead. So why not give in? Life as become unbearable especially without her by my side.

That's why I chose this as my final resting place.

I walked up the long drive to the front doors of the manor, careful not to set off the many traps surrounding the yard. It was her house, the place where she grew up. I opened the large cedar doors mechanically and moved quietly toward the 244 stairs that would take me to her room.

I'd counted them once. The stairs that is. I was young and naïve and decided it would be an amusing game for the two of us to play. It took nearly two hours as neither of us was very good at counting. We had slipped tiredly unto the top step breathing heavily and she gave me one of the many beautiful smiles she reserved only for me.

As I got older I grew colder toward her. Father told me at the raw age of ten that emotions would be my downfall, and that I was forbidden to love. So I'd shunned her and treated her poorly for months. I knew how much it hurt her but she was dealing well. She began to dress a certain way to catch my attention, or make rude comments about others in my presence.

At Hogwarts we united and became a team. We were callous, cruel and mean to everyone we met. At first it was odd that such thing were coming from my mouth but then it became natural. Together we embraced the darkness full heartedly. We were bitingly cold and enjoyed every minute of it. After spending so much time with each other it was assumed we were sleeping together. We'd decided that we wouldn't stop the rumours, only add to them and spread them.

It wasn't until the end of fourth year that I started yearning for her touch. I wanted to feel her cool, porcelain skin against mine, feel her hot breath against my neck, and hear her moan in ecstasy as my larger body engulfed her petite one. I not only wanted but needed to feel her writher beneath me in timeless pleasure.

In fifth year we began our actually relationship. We weren't in love, Merlin no. But we lusted. We coveted the each others body, mind and soul. We touched and talked as much as we could, but it was never enough. I needed more; I needed her fingers leaving burning trails on my already hot skin, her bruised lips on my own at all times. Even one look could ignite a fire deep within my very soul and I knew she had to be mine.

I proposed summer after fifth year, just before I initiation into the Dark Lord's ranks. I would be going straight to the top with her at my right hand side.

After that everything went downhill. My task was to murder Dumbledore, but how could I when the Dark Lord could not? I pushed away from her as it got more difficult and harder to plan. The day before we returned to Hogwarts, she threw her engagement ring back in my face and screamed that I was going mad.

She was probably right. She deserved better then me and I swore right then, that as soon as my mission was over I would convince her to take me back. She needed me just as much as I needed her.

It took me months of preparation before I was ready to complete the mission that would secure both myself and her a place in the darkness. I was confident that everything would go as planned. I figured killing the old coot would be the easiest part.

How wrong I was.

The damned man encouraged me but at the same time offered me protection if I didn't want to kill him. What could I say? He would never understand what was happening in my life. If I failed this, I would be cast out of my home and killed by my masters' followers. I had no choice in the matter. But I couldn't do it. Not that I didn't want to, because believe me the world is better off without him. I just couldn't utter the spell; Snape had to do it for me. So I ran. I don't mean when I ran off the grounds with Snape, either.

I ran away from everything. From my family who disowned me, from my only chance of survival and from her. I didn't want to see the disgust in her eyes.

Three months passed before she tracked me down. I was staying in a grubby muggle hotel while I figured out where to go next when she slipped through my door. We stood facing each other for a few minutes, maybe more, when she launched herself at me hungrily.

It was a night of passion and lust. We came together and moulded as one over and over again until dawn rose in the East. We screamed ourselves hoarse, not bothering with a silencing charm. Our slick skin met for the first time since our engagement and once again we felt the fire. It didn't matter that our fumbled touches were sporadic and inconsistent; all that mattered was that we were together again.

I knew it couldn't last, as did she but for one night we pretended it was only us and that we ruled our own little world. We kept little contact over the next two months as we would both be in danger if we were found out.

In the end it didn't matter. The Dark Lord knew I'd never completely leave her, though how; I'm not sure. He found out we were still in contact and had her killed, then put on display in the middle of Diagon Alley. I hadn't seen her directly, but from the papers I knew her body held signs of rape and abuse of all kinds.

I cried that night. For the first time in over twelve years I cried. From then on I made sure I held no contact with anyone. It was my fault she was dead, and my fault she'd endured such devastating pain.

Now, as I stand here in what was once her room, I fall to my knees. I deserved to pay for what I indirectly did to her. I promised never to hurt her again after my temporary insanity and our engagement but I broke it, indirectly breaking her.

I sent a letter to my cousin this morning, letting her know that I was free to kill after eleven and I told her where I'd be. I asked her to come alone, swearing that I was unarmed and completely on my own. Don't ask me how, but I knew she'd understand. Nymphadora Tonks was as good a person as you'd ever find.

At one point in my life it would sicken me to allow this filth to kill me. Now, after a year of running and pain; nothing could faze me. I know longer cared about such things.

All I could think about was leaving this world and moving on to the next great adventure, praying to Merlin that she and I could be together again.

I hear a door slam somewhere in the house and glance at the clock place on her wall. It read 11:02AM. I smile bitterly and lay myself out on her bed, breathing in her smell which was still woven into the sheets. I open my mouth and speak; my voice rasping and unlike my usual tone.

"Pansy, darling, I'm coming for you."

With that; I shut my tired eyes and drift off, doubting if I'll ever wake again.

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**Edit 06/04/07:**

I fixed a few errors in it, although I know I didn't catch them all. Feel free to point them out anyway, though.

**Love Always, V.V.**


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